Fly tippers, doggers and watching youffs in a Corsa. Did I mention the rain?

And you know what? Even with the incessant rain; the deep, slippy mud; the sleezy guy in the Porsche Panamera atop Reigate Hill; the cheering youths in the car park watching a pair of doggers on Reigate Hill; some odd witch character at Ingliss; the low mist which meant my lights were totally useless; fogged up glasses; rain dripping through helmet vent holes; a cold head. It wasn't a bad ride.

Actually I lie big style. It was utterly pants. Some of it was fun; the usual suspects. Golf club singletrack; drop down Reigate Hill; being over Headley. 5km was fun. 25km was not. Emphatically not.

Up Reigate Hill, guy in a Panamera cruising for a pull. I was, ahem, 'adjusting my jacket' so could see, watch, understand. As he went for a third cruise around I put my lights on full and rode towards him. He had his on full, so why not? Just sat there, taking it, as was his intention for later....

Up at Ingliss, going through the gate up popped a head from the dark. Slightly strange character. Probably just sheltering from the horrid rain. By then my glasses were fogged and my lights just illuminating a metre in front of me. Could have been a nun. Didn't care either way.

Rain. More of it. Lots of it.

Carried on, over to Headley. Trails over to and past the golf club running really fast. So much rain hardly any mud here, riding right on the trail bed. Fastest time ever over to Headley. Really flew. Couldn't see, just riding on instinct. Turn here, turn there, brake now!

Was going to stop in a pub, dry off, quick pint, happy chat with the country yokels out there. Discuss tractor prices or crop yield. I'd gotten there so fast though, it seemed odd to. Only been out 25 minutes.

Carried onward and around. Mud started to get deeper, gears got lower, I got covered. Mist meant I rode into everything. Five10 shoes did there usual trick of letting everything in.

Bike worked fine. Lapped it up. Tyres slipped now and then in a neck jarring kind of way. Enjoyed that bit, the slippy singletrack. Big, big slides.

Near the duck pond, big pile of wood on the trail. Most rides or car journeys these days are not even losely disguised trips to find fire wood, so I was interested. Looked like the quantity a Land Rover pick-up would drop. Had the general look of being scummy, cheap tree surgeon work; chain saw cuts. Rotten heart wood though, so no good for a burn. Hence why they tipped it I guess, but the location was pants. Right in the middle of the road. Local council going to have to pay for removal, which means you and I. Thanks mate, thanks.

Helmet light meant the vented helmet. Vented helmet, in this rain? 90 minutes in, my forehead started to get seriously cold. Bit of a worry that, means rash decisions and poor choices. Unfortunatey miles from home. Luckily I've been here, in this situation, loads of times. Too many really. Time to batten down the hatches, retain heat, don't lose it. All zips closed, chocolate eaten, set off again, get off the exposed hillside, get warm quick. Head still cold but things happier. Dropped 200m in height, things warmed up.

Whilst warming up later on under cover at Urban Kitchen, noticed some cheering coming from a little Corsa. Took some time to lose the fog from my glasses. Ah. Cheering because they were watching some doggers at it on Reigate Hill. Dirty, dirty.

Of course none of this is of any use to you Dear Reader. Noticed that for every 6 readers I have, and I have a few, 5, statistically, will be from America. God bless you and your affection for tales from the Heath!

Got home, Guy Martin on the telly. Darn it! Missed the X-Factor..... Did Guy get off with the hot chick? Hope so, hope so. She was as mad as him.

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